The Safety of a Hope Destroyed
by TempeJill
Summary: Spoilers for Harbingers in the Fountain. A multi-chapter story revolving around Brennan and Booth's thoughts during and after the Season 5 opener and how they affect the future that the partners are heading towards. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Bones is finally back!! *squeals loudly* I loved the premiere. All of it. Totally awesome :) **

**But I just had to write something, after those looks on Brennan's face. I think this will be more than one chapter. Oh... and anyone who's reading What Brings Them Together and/or The Isolation of a Lone Suffering... I haven't forgotten them. Don't worry, they will continue to be updated. (Yes, I am insane for trying to keep three stories running at once.)**

**Disclaimer: I would love to own them, but I think Hart and FOX are doing a pretty good job with season 5 so far... so I'll let them keep it a while longer xD**

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**Her mind was spinning. Too fast. Way too fast. What was going _on_ with her lately? What was going on with _them?_

She raced through everything that had happened, every detail since his coma.

There had been the awkward silences for those few days before she'd left for Guatemala... the way that the shock had clung to her, latched itself to every thought, when she'd learned that he'd dreamt the same story she'd been writing. He knew it all. He'd been witness to every one of her imagination's wild creations during those four long and torturous days of vigil in his hospital room.

She'd let it out of control, let loose every emotion that she'd boxed up, and she had allowed herself to picture a form of how things could be. How things might have ended up if they were different people, if they even stood a chance together.

Too close. That was it, she'd gotten way too close.

It had all been a lie, she reflected. Whenever she'd told anyone that she didn't know how to love, that she didn't form those bonds that other people did, that she couldn't understand the emotion or the pain that was linked through that, and the deep happiness that was twined within it, dependant upon it in order to survive... in order for her to _live_.

She knew exactly what it was like. And she knew that she shouldn't have risked letting it happen. But how could she have avoided this? How could she have kept a distance, remained professional when it was so... _easy_? When he just showed up at her door with Chinese food, when he laughed and called her Bones, when he didn't immediately judge her upon learning she was from the foster system. The first test, was what it had been. Everyone else... either she didn't tell them at all out of fear, or she did and they treated her... differently. Acted like she was breakable, or damaged, or in need of separate treatment than the rest of the world. And many times they simply left because of that, wanting to be with someone who wasn't so much difficulty to understand. Someone who _could_ be loved, when apparently she could not.

And yet all of this, the fact that no one could love _her_, hadn't stopped her from somehow letting her love someone else.

Again, the rush of thoughts overwhelming all else, trying to convince her that she did not, in fact, love him... but she shoved it off. What was the point? Why would she deny it when her own writing had _very_ clearly laid it out. She'd written them married, expecting a child, and _happy_. Together. And he'd woken up... and he'd talked like he was still in whatever dream he'd formulated using what she'd said out loud. And he'd been _disappointed_, that much was very clear to her, and had been obvious immediately, when he'd finally realized it had all been a dream and that wasn't his life.

So, did that mean she wasn't as good as Bren? Did that mean that she really was incapable of being loved, when the unrealistic version of herself was what Booth would actually want? Could she ever be what he wanted, just as she was right now?

As if in answer, her mind replayed the scene from just over an hour ago, as it had been doing all through her visit at the hospital.

The way he'd suddenly appeared in the doorway, shot the man who would have killed her if he'd had a few more minutes. The way he'd immediately been by her side, so concerned about her. How he'd been upset, even afraid, when he'd seen the knife in her arm. His arms, warm around her while his firm hand grasped the wound and held pressure to it. The sound of his voice murmuring comfort to her like he had so many times before, back when there was no brain tumor, when they were just Booth and Brennan who'd only worked cases together, who were just beginning to become friends, best friends... true partners.

She'd leaned her head against him, shutting her eyes as she felt the pain begin to throb furiously through her from the deep gash. She'd listened to the soft comfort of his voice... and she'd felt his lips press to the top of her head... heard him whisper... the words somehow spreading further warmth through her as she clutched a hand tightly around his arm, clinging to him as the adrenaline wore off, as the realization that she'd survived the encounter sank in.

_"I've got you, baby..."_

And he'd said he wasn't going anywhere, he'd told her to trust him... and she'd immediately nodded her head against him, immediately held on to those words. She trusted him, yes... she would always trust him.

So here she was, knocking once more on a door, and once more calling out her presence. The situation, so similar to the last one, almost made her hesitate more, almost made her step back out the door, call someone... change her mind about doing things alone. But she didn't.

She needed answers, and it didn't matter, suddenly, that the woman was a fake, was claiming to be something that did not exist and was not rational. What mattered here was the fact that this woman had been the reason that Booth had come, had saved her life, and that she seemed very observant... in a way that was similar to Sweets, but not so at the same time. She wanted to hear that insight. She wanted to know what this woman thought, interpreted, from her brief interactions with them. After all, in order to trick people out of their money and convince so many with great skill that she was genuinely in tune with the nonexistent spirits of the universe, she would have to notice things that other people could not. These things... well they might be valuable, even if tarot card readings were not.

"Dr. Brennan," Avalon greeted her from where she sat behind a table, cards laid out in front of her. It was foolish, but the fact that the woman was not in any position to attack her like her last visit to an unfamiliar location relaxed her greatly. More so than she'd have liked. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, they gave me medication... so I feel how I imagine people of average intelligence feel all the time."

The blonde woman stared at her, her facial expression not changing.

She hesitated slightly, but then went on, deciding to go with the direct route since she wasn't about to say that she wanted an opinion. "I came her to see if you had run away."

"No," Avalon said, a slight sadness tainting her tone. She went on almost bitterly, "I'm here looking for clues... something I might have missed..."

"...In your... cards? Because that... is a waste of time."

"You say that, _after_ I sent Agent Booth to save your life."

She scowled slightly, and quickly defended, "Well, you knew where the bodies were, you knew Dr. Lecock would... attack me."

To this, Avalon made no comment, instead she reached for the top of the deck and removed a card, placing it in front of her. "You were an abandoned child," she said. Brennan found herself turning away, her eyes flicking self consciously from the so-called psychic to the card, and then to the floor, where it was safest to look. She didn't like discussing this, and the fact that someone she didn't even know had brought it up, pulled it straight out in front of her, was not something she found any pleasure in. She felt herself shrink away almost without even meaning to. The woman went on, flipping another card and placing it next to the first, "The world scares you, and so you wrap it up neatly in bonds of reason, education, and proof." The truth there struck a bad cord with her, but she didn't speak up. There was no reason to deny, even when this woman had no backing to her statements... she knew that her admittance to these almost accusations was written across her face and in her current slight shifting movements. The observant woman would pick up on this immediately. She would know she was right. "All riddles are solvable to you, except for one."

Now she spoke up, feeling the need to derail this before it went further. Suddenly, the analysis of herself by this woman was not something she was interested in or curious about... but something to be feared beyond anything. She did not want to know what she saw when she looked at her, she didn't want to hear the words should they strike truth, and alter how she was able to live her life. She did not want to look in the mirror and realize that every word that was spoken here was accurate, and that who she was because of it might not be who she wanted to be. Maybe... she wanted to be Bren. Maybe she hated who she was, even after all these years of forming herself into what she'd become.

"Yes, the riddle of how you knew where your sister was buried."

"No," Avalon said, contradicting her with an air of calmness that was almost chilling. "The riddle _you_ can't solve... is how somebody could love you."

She felt an unpleasant sinking sensation as her stomach clenched, and her mind went about the familiar process of simply pretending the words were wrong. She laughed... it was the natural response of denial. One she'd learned well and used to turn away even the most insistant of people who claimed they understood her or thought they had a theory that was simply not plausible. It was something she employed to protect both herself and everything she believed in.

"Well... I'm beautiful, and very intelligent," she said rationally. Both were true... both were why she'd even had boyfriends to begin with. If she hadn't had either then she'd just have been... who she was, underneath that, and that wasn't good enough. That would never be good enough, not for anyone. Not even the people she let closest to her. Because it was her intelligence that connected them, that let them work together. The rest of it... well that didn't matter. It was unreasonable to expect it to, to hope it was true that maybe someone wouldn't care if she was beautiful or if she was smart... but would care for her as a person, as a hurt and insecure person who just wanted to keep the world out... to not feel anymore pain.

Avalon, unlike so many other people, did not accept this... but instead gave her an almost knowing smile, her hand reaching for another card. "The answer to the question... that you're afraid to say out loud, is... yes. He knows the truth of you, and he is _dazzled_ by that truth." She placed a card down, one with a bright sun on it... and smiled softly at her, her eyes conveying no lie, no trick... nothing but sincerity and belief.

She stared at the card, the words still ringing in the air. Rationally, she knew that she could not believe it. The word of a psychic was little compared to the word of reason... and yet she was drawn to trust it, to grab that ray of hope that maybe he did love her, that maybe he cared for her and all of her, despite all her flaws, despite all that had happened to her in her life and the scars it had left behind.

He'd said he wasn't going to leave her... he'd said before that he would never betray her... he'd saved her life so many times... he'd held her close through the worst moments and he'd laughed and teased her during the best... He hadn't fled like the others when she told him, bit by bit, spread out by fear of judgment and abandonment, the fragments of her life. And he'd shared his own stories, entrusted her with them as she had with hers to him. But did all that mean that he... that he loved her? That he wanted _her_, not Bren, not a blonde lawyer, not someone who'd lived a pleasant childhood and had no social ineptitudes? It couldn't... but yet she wanted it to. Oh, she wanted it to, more than she'd ever wanted anything.

If only she could really believe, really truly _believe_ that it was true, and that it was possible that he might know all of her, even the parts she was ashamed of, the parts that reflected her weaknesses and fears, and still care so deeply about her that none of it mattered.

She remembered his arms around her, she recalled the way he'd been so concerned for her safety whenever they'd worked a dangerous case. The way he'd flown all the way down to New Orleans when she'd woken up that day, covered in blood and with an entire day wiped from her memory, and he'd been so concerned about her that even then she had questioned whether or not he was more worried about losing her as an asset to the FBI, or losing her as something personal that he could not live without.

Flickers of the times that she'd felt safe, that she'd just wanted to let a moment last forever... they all traced through with lightning quickness, but she slid them aside at a faster pace, racing to ones that might prove the point of him loving her... she no longer needed to linger on the ones that showed her own feelings... those she knew, those she had feared and yet been unable to release or push away. _Those_ were something she was sure of. It was the rest that needed proving, that needed to be backed by the truth, the understanding, which Avalon had somehow spoken of a moment ago...

And she did need that, too, to have the world wrapped up as though in a textbook within the confines of binding and strict rules that kept track of all within and controlled the plot line so it would not deviate from its planned course of action... and it did make her feel safe and protected from all the things that concerned her in the world.

It shouldn't be right, to trust in the word of a psychic, to go off of conjecture and unreasonable hopes... but she decided to anyways. The swell of possibilities almost overwhelmed her, and for a brief second, just one second... she saw herself as Bren... but as not the exact woman, because she realized that was not truly who she wanted to be, and it was not the Booth she wanted it to be with, from that world, either. She wanted it to be them, who they were with the bickering and the case solving and her intelligence and his people skills... but she wanted it to be their interactions that mimicked the world she'd created and found refuge in during those days of fear while he slept, while the silence tore away at her and gave meaning to all that she'd feared and trapped within herself after his faked death.

She wanted it to be them, the two of them who had stood down death and suffering, who had worked together through the hardest parts of her life and some of his... and she wanted to not have to question it, to never have to question it the way that Bren had not once even considered the possibility of a life without her husband. Bren did not dwell on the risks and the fears... she never even voiced them, never let them come into her mind. She did things as she wanted to, as she thought was right... and she was happy. That was how she'd written it... and that was how she wanted it. To be able to wake up in the morning, with Booth next to her, and to just _know_, in the way that she knew the truth of science and the truth of everything else rational, that he loved her, without having to even hear the words from his mouth. To just be able to sense it, to see it in his eyes, his actions, to feel it in his touch and the warmth of his arms around her.

But what she wanted... could it happen? Could it truly happen to _her_? And the fear remained, eating at her, telling her that it was safer to not rely on this, to not get her hopes up...

She decided to remain silent. Decided to not say anything... to continue as it had been. And maybe the reality of true life would provide for her what conjecture could not.

* * *

It was suddenly evident that her worries about what he was to say next were not nearly so great as her fears, terrors, of what losing him might mean. Was she already losing him? She said it, and everyone else said it... that in a few weeks everything would be normal. How many times could they continue to just set a timeframe around it... even when it didn't happen? What if there were things about him that were lost... gone forever? What if the Booth she'd known for so long was no longer there, but rather a form of him, one that had been affected and confused by her fantasies imposed into his vulnerable brain... one that would always need reminder to do the most basic things that simply made him who he was.

The socks, the crazy tie, the belt buckle... that was _Booth_. That was who he was. And he'd lost it... he'd had to be _reminded_ of it. Did he still care? Did he now wear them because he understood why he always had in the past, or was he simply going through the motions, trying to keep himself the way he'd been and yet maybe slipping deeper and deeper into the waters that had wrenched him away from her to begin with?

He hated clowns. He hated them more than anything, maybe more than she disliked snakes. He'd shot two, since she'd started working with him, after all, and he'd gone pale in that fun house... he'd been jumpy and nervous... and now he found them _funny_. No, that was not the Booth she'd known, not the Booth she'd grown so close to. Would that part of him come back, the part that edged away from the brightly dressed circus people? And even if it did, would there simply _always_ be something nagging at the back of his mind, something that wasn't right?

Did he remember everything about her? Did he still know her favorite flowers, and her favorite planet? Did he recall Jasper, and Brainy Smurf? Or was that lost as well? This whole time, when he was watching her with those curious and fascinated eyes –yes, she'd noticed the way he stared, the way he observed with a slight smile tipping up one corner of his mouth– was he just picking up on details for the first time? Was he storing away things about her for future reference since he'd realized he should know them, or was he remembering things from before, and just being glad to be working side-by-side with her once more? Or maybe it was neither, maybe it was something else entirely? The not knowing, the uncertainty of all of it, was what caused the most fear to rise within her.

"What did you want to tell me?" she asked, pushing away the rush of emotion and confusion for the importance of gaining this knowledge, of just knowing, at last, what it was that he wanted to say to her.

He stared at her for a second, indecision racing through his eyes.

"I love you," he said. No emotion, no signs for her to read from him. Just the words, which should have been enough. She felt the breath fly out of her as her mouth opened slightly, her eyes widening... her heart nearly stopping.

She didn't know what to say, and even if she did, she was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to speak. Had he just said that? Had he just told her the three words that she'd never thought to hear from him, even though she'd imagined on the possibility enough times within the past few days, within the writing period of the fantasy world.

But she didn't get a chance, not even to process the words, what they meant, how they would affect everything about her world...

He opened his mouth, and her total attention went to him, expecting further words, further explanation. "In a professional... atta girl kinda way," he said, his tone different but so hard for her to understand, to grasp the meaning of... and there had to be a meaning... The words themselves, though... she couldn't process them. He said he loved her, and she'd only just barely felt the flicker of light, of hope, of almost excitement... before he'd cut it off, changed the explanation, dashed her overactive imagination's thoughts to the ground. This was what she deserved, for actually believing a psychic. He didn't love her. He couldn't, no one could. She should never have hoped it. And yet the words came out anyways, the shocked ones, the ones that were questioning his second statement, half-hoping he'd take it back.

"Atta girl kind of way?"

It was a foolish sort of hope, the kind that she'd always avoided. The kind she had been _right_ to avoid for so long.

He looked away, then looked back and nodded. And that nod was all she needed, the only thing that had to be provided for her to mentally slap the part of her brain that wanted, _needed_, to be connected, to be cared about.

After that, everything she said, everything she did, was on that same level as her laugh from earlier, when confronted with something else that she could not process without aid from her compartmentalization skills. They took over, and she turned on the autopilot.

_Pretend to be amused, to have no problem or confusion at all about what he said. Don't act upset, don't allow emotion and pain to show on the exterior. Laugh. Good, keep it up..._

She should have known, should have realized... risk, hope, they were all traps, and they were only able to be set by the people that were to be captured in them.

Well, she would not fall victim again. Booth did not love her. So she should cut off her own emotions, she should end that way in which she saw him, in which she relied on him. It was time to stop being the way she'd become. It was time to stop imagining a future like that of Bren and the nightclub...

And get on with reality, painful reality... and painful life.

She would survive, yes, but she wasn't sure how much of her happiness, so newly found in the past few years... would make it through with her.

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**What did you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts... they will keep me happy until next Thursday :)**

** Next chapter I think will be a much needed conversation between Booth and Angela. I like Cam, I really really do, but I think Ange would be the more likely person to go to about a matter concerning Brennan. Especially now that he's sort of told her, and got to see her reaction before taking it back.**

**...Who can't wait for next week?? *waves both hands madly in the air***


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2!! **

**p.s.- I'll put some spoilers I've learned about this season in the bottom author's note. Don't read unless you want to know! :)**

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He wasn't really sure what to do, exactly, but he knew that both avoiding her and talking to her were not perfect options. If he avoided her, she'd be hurt. He hadn't exactly forgotten the expression on her face when he'd taken off with the plastic disc, turning her down on the breakfast offer. He was always the one that dragged her to get food... and now she was asking him to go eat with her, and he'd been the one to take off almost too quickly. She must have been so confused... probably thought, in that rational mind of hers, that he didn't _want_ to be with her at all, and that was why he'd been so quick to maneuver out of spending time with her.

She probably assumed that he'd interpreted her writing that had led to his dream in some way that made him want to stay away from her. Had she figured out, yet, the conclusion that Sweets had come to? Or at least... a section of it, the one where he was in love with her after waking up?

That was why he was being careful, after all... that was why he had to watch what he said, how he acted, and at the same time struggle to keep himself remembering small details. He'd cursed himself repeatedly for the mistake with the socks. If he'd thought about it, when he'd been getting dressed, he was pretty sure he'd have remembered that he disliked normal socks and ties. And the clown? He'd seen the hurt and the fear in her eyes, very clearly, when he'd failed to remember about that one.

He took another drink from the beer bottle. At least the case was over... that was the only positive he could seem to find, though. Everything Sweets and Cam had told him... it was worrying him. To not remember details like his likes and dislikes, how he dressed... well that was one thing. To not even be able to remember emotions and attachments to people... well, what if Sweets was right about all of that, what if he didn't love her, not really?

He knew he did, right at that moment. She was beautiful, and wonderful, and every little detail drew his attention. How her eyebrows came together as she stared intently at evidence, how she smiled just slightly, barely discernibly, when something made sense, when another piece of the puzzle fell into place for her before it did for anyone else. The sound of her voice. The way her hair fell down over her shoulder, and she brushed it from her eyes and slid it with a single smooth movement behind her ear, bending closer to whatever she was looking at as she did so. The light in her eyes, and how it made the cerulean depths sparkle with so much that if he looked deep enough it felt like he could almost grasp her thoughts and pull them straight to the surface, listen to them, understand every detail of her. Not that he didn't already know a great deal of it already.

But what if this all went away? The terror clenched tightly at his heart at the very thought. The way he felt right now... his heart skipping a beat when she spoke, when she made a small movement that was just adorable... how he didn't need anything at all but to be with her in order to be happy... he didn't _want_ that to go away. If only he could _remember_, he thought irritably, what he'd felt like _before_ the coma.

Sure, he knew all about her, all about every case they'd worked together, all the details of her life story and the things that she liked, that she hated, that upset her or made her laugh... and yet he didn't know how he felt about any of that because the emotion from simply loving everything about her was overpowering all else. He felt like he'd never seen anything different about her, like he'd always loved all those details about who she was and how she looked and acted... just _everything_... and now, to have that in question, to be told it might just.. go away... well that was unthinkable. It was like being told he had a time frame left to live, like he might just lose it all when the timer went off. Would he really just... lose this?

Could it even be possible to notice all these details about someone, and feel your heart swell with pride and fill with joy as you spent time with them... and then the next day just _not_ feel any of it anymore? What if it _did_ happen? If he went to the lab tomorrow, the day after, next week... whenever it was, and he looked at her... and just didn't feel it anymore. Just saw a beautiful woman with blue eyes, diligently and passionately doing her job? What if he saw someone that he was close to, that he cared about, but that was it? How would he even be able to cope? Surely he would feel empty, lost, separated from a part of himself that he now needed, that was now essential to aid in the simple functions of walking, of breathing, of speaking, of everything he did every single day? He could not be without her, he was sure of that.

But the nagging thought that maybe he was _wrong_ would not go away.

And if he told her that he loved her, and she didn't feel the same way? He wasn't sure he could bear that. Equally as terrifying... what if he told her, and she agreed... and then Sweets' prediction came true, and it all faded to nothingness, until he could no longer grasp at this soaring of his heart, and he was left trying to explain it to her, trying to tell her how he felt and how he didn't feel... trying not to lose her in that way either...

One thing he was absolutely certain of was that if Sweets was right, then Cam would be as well. Because she would lock herself in limbo, hide herself from the rest of the world, from the team, from him, if she let herself believe she was loved and then he told her she was wrong, that he didn't feel that way about her. It would destroy her, even more so maybe than losing her would destroy him.

She would never forgive him and the rest of the world... and she would never show herself again for who she really was.

He could not let that happen anymore than he could let anything else hurt her. If he was the threat, then he'd just have to keep his distance. To protect her. Until he understood better, until he... figured out who he was, and exactly what she was to him. Bones. Not Bren.

Another sip from the bottle.

Sweets' opinion was devastating, Cam's was a warning and one he should heed... but yet neither of them were truly experts on Bones, even if they thought themselves to be.

He pulled out his cell and flipped it open, debating. By dialing that number, he'd be opening himself up to a lot of talking and a lot of discussion of his emotions. He might end up spending hours... but maybe that was what he needed. And he knew that there was no one else who'd better understand Bones' heart than she would. Sweets and Cam... they understood him, and the understood parts of Bones. He needed more advice, from a more direct location.

He hit the call button.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ange, it's Booth... can you meet me somewhere?"

* * *

"This had better be good," Ange said sternly as she slid into the opposite side of the booth. "I was having a rather nice time out at a club, and there was this really nice young guy..."

"It's about Brennan."

She was instantly all ears, leaning towards him with raised eyebrows and a gleam in her eyes that was saying, 'Tell me everything, right now, and don't spare the details.'

"Well... you know all about the dream..." she nodded quickly, and he went on, "I... well I just feel... since I've woken up..."

"You wish it was real," Ange finished for him. He was immediately reminded of the way Cam had so quickly picked up on what he was trying to say. Did everyone always have these things figured out before him? It was starting to get a little unnerving. But he supposed it was a good thing, since them knowing him so well meant that they'd be able to explain to him about how it was before all this had happened to him.

He nodded in response to her question.

"Why wouldn't you?" she said, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "Seriously, Booth, if you hadn't enjoyed a world where you were married to her, having great sex, and expecting a baby while at the same time working with her everyday in a totally safe and enjoyable atmosphere... there would be something wrong with you. That's like paradise."

He breathed out a sigh and then pulled out the file that Sweets had given him. He opened it up and pulled out the three scans, setting them out side-by-side.

"What's this?" she asked, leaning forward once again and staring at them with her brows knitted together.

"These are from Sweets," he began dejectedly. "This," he pointed to the lit up section of the middle one, "Indicates love, apparently. Attraction, happiness... all of that."

"So... this one is from the coma?" she caught on quickly, apparently seeing the connection in the order he'd arranged them on the table.

"Yeah. The... first one, it's from before. And the last one there is from a couple days ago."

She scowled. "You don't believe this scientific explanation, do you, Booth? Since when do you think that love is measured in chemicals in the brain. I thought you were a heart guy?"

He winced, "I am... or I thought I was... but this, these scans... they show that my brain wasn't producing the chemicals or whatever before the coma... and that... worries me."

"Why? Booth, you were seriously head over heels for her for _years_. You might not have said anything, or done anything about it, but _everyone_ knows it."

Cam's quick grasp of the situation... the way she'd just so quickly assumed he was in love with Bones... it gave a form of backing to the statement Ange had just made. If everyone else had observed it, though, how come their psychologist was so adamantly trying to tell him that he hadn't been in love beforehand?

"How come Sweets didn't pick up on that, then? He's always so quick to grab hold of just about anything he can find, I think he would have gotten that from observation." He searched through memories, and was even able to remember times when Sweets had tried to hint that they felt something more for each other. Did that mean that he'd changed his mind, or that he was intentionally doing this?

"Well then I'll go have a little talk with him, won't I?"

He almost laughed at that, but he found that he wasn't really capable of an amused reaction right then. He just wasn't in the mood, not when everything was still not making sense to him.

"Booth," she said seriously, leaning even closer. "You love her. And both of you have been pretending, for a very, _very_ long time that that connection doesn't exist. Listen to me, okay? She loves you. She might deny it and stand by that denial, but she _does_ love you. And she hasn't _ever_ felt about someone else the way she feels about you, which is why it's probably a heck of a lot easier for her to pretend it isn't what it is."

He hesitated before speaking again, but finally opened his mouth and said softly, "I talked to Cam about this... and she told me, warned me, really, that I should be careful about telling her. Ange, what if Sweets _is_ right? What if I wasn't in love with her before, and it's a side-affect of the coma? What if I... lose this? Do you have any idea what that would do to her, if I said I loved her, convinced her of it, and then took it back? Heck, I already told her once, and I took it back quick, but I could see she was confused. She's worried about _me_, for god's sake, when all I can do is be worried about her!"

"You told her?" Ange asked tersely. "Exactly _what_ did you tell her?"

He sighed, "I said I loved her." Ange's expression was telling him that he better keep explaining, and it had better be a _good_ explanation, so he rushed to continue, "And then... she just sorta looked at me... and I... okay I backed out. I was afraid of what would happen. So I told her I loved her in a... professional way. You know, like... friends."

Ange groaned. "Booth!" He grimaced and looked away. Silence for a moment, a deep breath from Ange. "Tell me, now... how did she react afterwards?"

He winced again. "Pretended it was all good and she total got what I was saying. You know how she is..."

"Yeah. I know." Ange said, her voice snapping slightly. Then she sighed, and continued in a more gentle tone. "Okay, Booth, I know you're confused. So it's not _entirely_ your fault... but for goodness sake consult me first next time. I wouldn't have told you to do that before... but now, with all that's happened, we can't risk hurting her permanently. She'll break, totally fall to pieces, if you tell her that you don't love her. And I will _not_ be happy with you if that happens. I've already had to watch her go through it once, and I'm sure as hell not gunna see it again."

He knew, immediately, that she was referring to the time that he'd been shot and everyone had thought he was dead, including Bones.

"I know, Ange. I won't do that to her; I _can't_."

"Good. I'm sure you'll do what's right. And, for goodness sake, stop doubting yourself. What I said before, I know it won't happen, because you've _always_ loved her... but if you doubt yourself enough, convince yourself that it was all created by the coma and there wasn't anything before that... well then you could do some serious damage. Stay true to your heart, and you'll do fine."

"Thanks," he said, nodding with sincerity. "Really, Ange. I don't know how I'd be able to do this without you."

"Hey, as long as you make her happy you have no reason to owe me one or anything like that. One thing, though... I'd suggest not bringing this up again with her until you're absolutely certain. Take some time to remember things, think about not only what happened, but how you _felt_. I'm sure it will all come to you soon enough. And then you and her... well, you'll finally get to where I've been trying to get you to for all these years."

He chuckled softly, surprising himself. It was just so... Ange, saying things like that. Then he got up from the table, and she followed. They split up outside, heading to their separate vehicles. Once inside the SUV, though, he wasn't really sure what to do. Where to go.

He wanted, very strongly, to go to her apartment. It was something familiar, going to her at ungodly hours of night with food, just to be with her.

...Wasn't that something? Wasn't that a sign, something that he hadn't done ever, for anyone but her unless he was dating that person? That said something, didn't it, that even when they weren't working he was thinking of her, wanting to be with her?

He stored that thought away, but did not go to her apartment. It would be too tempting to tell her, to spill it all out. And that would probably ruin everything. He would take Ange's advice, and give himself some more time to figure things out before he dove in. Serious thinking and planning would be required, and that would take a while. He drove home, and prepared himself for a long sleepless night of digging through memories.

* * *

"Do we have a case?" she asked, looking up from her computer.

He leaned in the doorway, thinking, and missed the words. He could remember coming here and standing just like this, remember watching her work before she noticed it was him. Smiling softly as he watched her scowl at her computer screen and promptly attack the keys, erasing patches and furiously retyping them. It was the indication that she was working on a book, and he was immediately reminded of the last time she'd written. Was this a book she'd started long before his brain tumor, of was it a new one that she'd begun while in Guatemala?

"Booth?" her voice pulled his attention back to the present.

"What?"

"I said do we have a case?" she repeated, frowning at him and tilting her head as thought concerned for his mental health. Which she might very well actually be.

"Oh, sorry, no. I was just..." he gestured towards the lab behind him. "Here."

"Oh." She was still frowning at him, and her hands were frozen on the keys.

"So... um... new book?" he asked, attempting to start a normal conversation between them. She stiffened slightly in response... not the reaction he'd been aiming for at all.

She nodded jerkily, and as he separated himself from the doorframe and walked towards her desk, he saw her hand fly to the mouse. As he got close enough to see the screen he saw a writing document vanish, leaving the screen to her default background, which he saw was actually a picture of the two of them. She immediately hit the screen power switch and it turned black. Then she turned eyes accusingly on him, as if daring him to comment. He wisely chose not to.

"Right. Uh... I guess I'll just... I have paperwork to do."

"Oh. Okay." He watched her, seeing disappointment color her expression. Her eyes flicked to the clock, and he realized quite suddenly that this was when he'd usually come and drag her off to get lunch. He hesitated, one foot already stepping towards the door... and then he hurried from her office. Going to get food with her would not end well, he was certain. It was... unsafe. Spending time with her right after her return had been dangerous too, and by not being cautious enough... well, look what had happened. He'd managed to confuse her further, say he loved her and take it back, not be there with her to protect her from psychotic doctors that wanted to stab her before they could succeed... Keeping her away from cases seemed like his best bet at this point. And that included keeping himself away from her.

He left the lab entirely, going to sit in his SUV but not starting it. Instead he leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. The night before... well he'd gone through everything from start to finish, recalling every detail of every case and what had happened during that time period not related directly to evidence and interrogation.

Now he was starting to doubt Sweets' opinions entirely. All the things he could recall about what he'd said, how he'd spoken to her, how she'd reacted around him... it all spelled out that he cared very deeply. Especially how he remembered feeling whenever she was in danger... not just the guilt of being unable to protect her and the natural urge to be the savior and the shield to protect someone he cared about from the dangers of the world... but the fear that he'd lose her and never get the chance to say so many things to her, never get to actually hold her, kiss her, be with her and just... well, just be like they had been in the dream.

Why was it, though, that now he felt so differently? That now he knew exactly what he was feeling and he understood what if meant and what he wanted? Why was it that that aspect was missing from his memories of before? Didn't it make sense that he should have known that he loved her, and was just denying it to the rest of the world and especially to her, out of fear of losing her? That wouldn't change how it would show up on the brain scans, though, he was fairly certain. If he'd felt this way about her, but hid it, the scan would have still picked it up. And it hadn't.

He really _hated_ those damn brain scans.

* * *

It wasn't long before he found himself right back at the lab again. A good long drive had cleared his head for the most part, even though he still hadn't found the answers that he really wanted. That he really _needed_.

The lab was just an unavoidable part of who he was and what he wanted, he supposed, as he parked directly next to her car. So she was still here, despite the fact that it was now dark out. He'd been gone for longer than he'd thought, he realized as he glanced at the LED display before he shut off the engine. It was already past eight. He might be trying to avoid confronting his feelings, but he still couldn't keep himself from coming here, from dragging her out of the lab and bringing her home. Because she needed to go home and sleep... working all day might be her best way of resolving her inner-issues, but it wasn't healthy.

He found her on the lab platform when he came in, completely alone. The others had all gone for the night, although he doubted that any of them had left without attempting to convince her of the need for her to go home. They'd been unsuccessful, clearly.

"Hey, Bones," he called softly, stopping to lean against the railing at the base of the steps.

Her head snapped up in surprise, and her eyes locked on his for a second before immediately looking away, a flash of sadness lighting up her features before it disappeared and was quickly replaced by an expression of indifference.

"Time to leave," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "I'll give you a ride home." He knew he was taking a risk, but he was willing to do so for her. He couldn't avoid her entirely, or that sad look in her eyes was going to become a permanent feature. Maybe Ange was right, and she did love him... it would explain why she was so hurt by him not taking her to breakfast a few days ago, and lunch earlier today. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part. Then again, she had been the one that had written his dream... that had to say something about her opinion of him, now didn't it?

"I'm fine," she answered him, her back now facing his direction as she went back to some limbo skeleton that was laid out on the evidence table.

"Come on, Bones, just... go and get some sleep, okay? What if we have a case tomorrow?"

He knew it was wrong to suggest they might, especially when he knew they wouldn't after he'd requested specifically against being assigned any for a few days, but he had to use some excuse.

With a sudden swift movement she removed the lab coat, snatched her things from a nearby desk chair, and stalked down the steps, passing him. Startled, he hurried after her.

"Whoa, Bones, wait up!"

"What do you want?" she snarled, spinning around so that he skidded to a stop just barely in time to avoid colliding with her. "I can't deal with this, Booth. Not with you wanting to drive me home one second and completely keeping away from me the next. What do you want from me?"

His mouth opened slightly, but he couldn't come up with a response. To his alarm, he saw that she had tears sparkling in her eyes. Oh, god, he'd already hurt her...

And now he had really no idea what he could do about it.

Then, as if she could see that he was lost within himself, unable to say a single word, she turned away once more. He watched her get into her car. Watched her drive away. And he couldn't find a way to even attempt to stop her. What could he say? How could he explain, without risk of hurting her even _more?_

Without a word, he got into the SUV and sat there for a while... staring blankly at the opposite wall of the parking garage. Just thinking... just trying to figure everything out.

* * *

**SPOILER ALERT!!**

**okay... so here's some things that I've heard that might interest all of you :)**

**First, there is going to be a Christmas episode this season. They are attempting to get Zooey Deschanel to guest star as Brennan's cousin, who was apparently very briefly mentioned at some point in season 2... (anyone know what episode? Is it Killer in the Concrete? Hmm... I may have to go rewatch that one...)**

**Second, as you probably have all figured out by now, episode 100 is going to be in this season. One of the possibilities among many at this point: A flashback episode to the first case they ever worked together. I don't know about everyone else, but my vote is for that idea, and I haven't even heard any other options x)**

**Third, the next episode Bond in the Boot, will involve the introduction of Brennan's latest book, which will apparently lead to tension between the two of them. I'm betting it's going to be something about a romantic relationship between Kathy and Andy. Or maybe she killed Andy off.(Although I doubt she'd do that) Guess we'll have to wait and see!**

**Anyways, these things make me super happy, and I hope they have the same effect on all of you :)**

**I'll have another chapter up soon enough!! Thanks for reading!!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry about how long it took to update this... I've been really busy lately, and especially this week, when my computer crashed and I was pretty sure I'd actually lost all of this. It was scary. So you might want to reread some of the last chapter, since with my slowness you've probably forgotten what was happening. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**PS- I edited and replaced the past two chapters cuz of grammar and spelling mistakes. That's what I get for not re-reading them before posting the first time, I guess. They haven't changed much, though.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bones. Sad? Yup.  
**

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* * *

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She watched him open and close his mouth, and felt her emotions go up another level. She quickly bit her lip, trying to keep the angry tears from breaking free. She didn't want to have those added to her list of troubles and fears for the moment.

Her list of mistakes...

Maybe this was best, then, if he really was pulling away like she'd begun to assume he was. It shouldn't shock her, that they couldn't be friends either. The dream, the dream that she'd _given_ him, had woken him up, alerted him to the problems. He had his own list of mistakes to deal with. Now... well now he must be starting to fix them. It was to be expected, wasn't it, that when he realized she was so deeply emotionally attached to him, he would try to end it completely? He didn't love her, so it was hardly to be expected that he'd be able to stay around here with her. Now... this offer to drive her home, it was him trying to be friendly when he really didn't want to be with her, or anywhere near her. That was why he wouldn't go out to eat with her... he didn't want to give her the wrong idea.

She bit her lip, felt her eyes stinging. She blinked them rapidly, managing to keep away the threat of most of the tears for a while longer.

When it seemed like he wasn't going to respond at all, she sighed and turned, heading to her own car with the intent of going home and attempting to sleep. To free herself for a little while from all of this confusion and pain.

He didn't try to stop her as she unlocked the car door and climbed in, despite the fact that he'd followed her to the vehicle. Then she pulled out, tried to ignore the fact that he stood there, in that same spot, watching her. She drove away from the lab, trying to get some form of comfort from the passing of the pavement beneath her tires.

All too soon, she found herself in her parking space at her apartment, and climbed out of the vehicle feeling almost numb. Lost, confused... she had not idea what to trust in anymore if she couldn't trust in him, and when she couldn't even find rationality to use in her defense. Everything seemed to have abandoned her... the way that it always tended to do with her. It seemed like nothing ever changed... like nothing ever really became permanently better. After all, there was always something worse which could happen. Which _would_ happen, just because she'd dared to be happy.

Mistakes... all of it was mistakes...

And with that knowledge, that it had all been wrong, that it had been her fault for misinterpreting her relationship with him as being more than it was... she knew that she would be trapped now, in a never-ending cycle of thoughts, of trying to explain to herself _why_ it had all gone the way it had.

The elevator couldn't seem to come fast enough, and she sighed and headed for the stairs instead, unable to stand idle for any period of time. That would allow her thoughts to process. If she was moving, if she was active, if she had a changing scenery to take in... then she could focus on analyzing the details of it, and not on the details of her overcomplicated life.

A life that, until a little over six weeks ago, she had thought to be fairly enjoyable.

Now... now she knew she wasn't going to be able to avoid letting the memories run rampant through her mind at the first opportunity they got. Which would be the moment she dropped into her bed and tried, most certainly unsuccessfully, to fall into an immediate and deep sleep. She knew that it was going to happen... that she was going to end up rationalizing and viewing all her experiences through her trained eyes... she was going to realize all of her mistakes that she hadn't even realized were mistakes. That she had wanted to _not_ be mistakes.

But they were. Oh yes they were.

Mistake after mistake after mistake...

Every emotion that she had felt over the past four years, every bit of the misguided happiness, it was all wrong. It all shouldn't have happened. She hadn't been in control... not even in the slightest.

She reached her floor. The short walk had been _too _short, and she almost considered going back down just for the purpose of coming right back up again. But she wiped her mind blank and walked with careful, purposeful steps to apartment 2B. She easily picked out her key from her full key ring and slid it in the lock. The door shut with a click behind her, and she was suddenly intensely aware, in the dead silence of her empty home, of the fact that she was totally alone.

Except for her thoughts. Which technically still counted as being alone... but didn't make them any less annoying.

She breathed out a long sigh as she dropped on the couch, sinking into the soft cushion and leaning back to rest her head on the pillow behind her. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend that nothing was bothering her... that today had been a normal day of work. She had gone in, identified remains in limbo like she'd been hired for, and she'd come straight home in her own car. That was it.

But she couldn't lie to herself; it wasn't possible with how rationally she thought or how quickly she always unconsciously began compartmentalizing anything that upset her. Right now she could barely think straight with all the memories that were flying around, and with the accusing words ringing through her mind, never stopping. They were all to the same point... that she had screwed up. That she had made the worst mistake of her life. And she'd let it happen for four years. Never once stopping to think about the negatives. She'd ignored them. She'd tried to pretend that because it wasn't admitted out loud, that because she denied constantly the fact that the connection between the two of them was even slightly romantic, it couldn't hurt her.

She'd had wakeup calls several time... brushes with death on both sides, hers and his. But _still _she hadn't seen logic and gotten away from what she was burying herself in. Now... it was too late. Now she was trapped, suffocated in the hole she had dug for herself.

_Four years._

The words rang through her head again, even as she fought to not think about it. She wanted to continue the way it had been. She wanted to _continue_ thinking it was not a mistake. She just wanted to be happy like she had been with him. Without worries filling her mind, without rationalizing all the issues she'd been creating.

The memories cleared up as her rational thinking began analyzing with no prompting, and certainly no encouraging, from her. There was that first Christmas that they'd been partners, when she'd found out he had a son and even met him. That was when Booth had tried to convince her of the magic of Christmas... when he'd found out more about her parents too. She'd seen the sympathy in his eyes, even though she'd tried to ignore it, and she'd never really forgotten the way his eyes had lit with fear when she'd sneezed, when he'd thought she might have Valley Fever. And her irrational thoughts had somehow refused to let her more rational ones tell her that the fear would make most sense was in relation to Booth himself... because if she had Valley Fever then he'd be afraid of catching it from her, since she'd just sneezed right next to him. She'd seen it as something else, and she'd never understood why.

What she'd seen it as was a fear for her. Not him. There was something... about the way he'd just _looked _at her... and she'd seen only concern there. He'd been worried about her. Everything that happened after that had only backed up her suddenly growing belief that maybe he cared about her... and that was only the start of her troubles.

Then there was when she'd gotten captured by Kenton, and she'd been so sure that she was about to die. She was never going to forget hanging there on that hook, helpless, watching her captor pull out his gun and swing it up over his head. She remembered in perfect detail the way she'd felt the rough rope against her wrists, the way the gag had tasted foul in her mouth while her breathing rushed out in harried gasps... the way her eyes had been watering with tears of terror.

And then he'd been there, and he'd rescued her. His arms had been strong around her, despite all the injuries he had, and his voice had been so soft and comforting as he murmured in her ear... told her it was all okay. And the way he'd seemed so relieved that he'd gotten there in time. The way he'd blamed himself in the hospital.

She couldn't forget what happened in her apartment before all of that, either. Letting go and deciding to just... have _fun_. Dancing and singing with him... and enjoying it far more than she would have expected.

And when they'd found out her mother was dead... the way he'd been there every step of the way. How she'd _let_ him comfort her, and had relied on him to be the one to do that for her. It had been so comforting to have him there, to have him be the one who was reassuring her, who wanted to help her in any way he could. And from what she saw... there was no personal gain there for him. He'd done all of that just for her.

The next year had only gotten worse. She'd felt so comfortable with him that she'd let her guard down further... she'd let him in on her fears, on the details of her life. And she'd killed somebody for him. That wasn't what she had become a forensic anthropologist for. She was supposed to be in the lab, she was supposed to stay away from the dangers and the shoot-outs, and the arrests, too. But she didn't, and she'd been unable to pull herself away even when things threatened her friends with the rest of the Epps case. He'd given her Jasper, and she hadn't been able to avoid feeling that bit of a spark, that bit of gratitude towards him. The way she felt when she was with him was just too... warm.

She'd convinced herself it was friendship. She'd made it worse by not admitting things sooner. By not running when she'd had so many opportunities. This connection... the way she felt and the way he _made_ her feel... she was so beyond control.

The memories continued, a constant stream of reminders of all her mistakes, all the times that she should have reacted differently and should have pulled away rather than clinging tighter. All her life she'd focused on being careful, on staying solitary to avoid this exact thing... and she'd failed. Miserably.

Who's face had flashed before her mind in that car, buried alive? It had been his, always his, and she'd even gone a step further and told Hodgins that she believed in Booth so fully that she thought he would save them without any proof towards that fact whatsoever. It was irrational. On top of that, she'd written that farewell letter to him, and she'd been very open in it. That one had been harder to convince herself into believing wasn't romantically related at all. Because she'd very clearly written that he meant more to her than anyone else.

Further mistakes. Further damage to herself, to the world she'd wanted to live in.

But... what if she didn't want that world anymore? What if she _wanted_ the world with Booth?

But she couldn't. There was no option. She was who she was, and what had happened recently was a clear indicator that things had gone too far... and that it was as far as they would ever go, too.

It was from then, from that day that he'd been the one to pull her from the sand and sealed her faith in him as concrete, irrationally, that she had begun to stop hiding it. That she had begun to admit to herself that maybe they weren't just friends. Still, she had fought it as best as she could, and vehemently denied it out loud.

This past year? It had been evidence of her ultimate failing. Telling Booth about being abused in foster care... she should never have done that. It was yet another secret, yet another link. And it was even one that she'd never told Ange. The rest of the things she'd told him about were all things that she'd told her best friend as well. Not this one. And she'd entrusted it to Sweets and mostly to Booth.

And what about when she'd admitted that horrible truth, something else she'd been trying to deny... when she'd told him that she was jealous of him and all the others. When she'd said she wished she could love. _Love_... something so irrational that she, as a scientist, as Dr. Temperance Brennan, should never be so foolish as to even believe in outside of the context of chemical reactions.

It was true, though... that was how far she'd come. How deep she'd gotten in this mess.

Then she'd gone and asked him to father her baby. The fact that she'd even wanted a child, even if she tried to tell herself that it was logical, seeing as she was intelligent and she should help the human race... it meant that she was succumbing even _further_ into the delusion that she could find love. That was it had been, of course. Her quest for love. It had made sense that she would love her own child. Mothers loved their children due to science, due to chemicals... if she had a baby, then she'd feel what everyone else did.

She'd wanted... she'd _wanted _to be irrational. To have it not be chemicals. And that was why she'd wanted it to be Booth's child, as well. She'd let it get to far. They weren't just friends. Of course they weren't just friends.

That was the danger.

And while he'd been in the coma all she'd been able to think about was losing him and how her life wouldn't be the same. Looking back, she saw pointlessness to all that suffering. If she'd turned away four years ago, if she'd kept it professional, if she'd refused to go out to eat at the diner with him, or turned him away when he came with Thai to her apartment late at night... if only she'd just stayed in the lab and hadn't been so determined to try out field work. _Then_ things might be okay. Then she could have remained a scientist, could have remained calm and cool towards everything, and watched others interact in relationships, avoiding anything that might lead to a desire towards having it for herself.

She should have never let herself get in to this point, where she felt emotions, where they took her over and controlled her fully.

The tears in her eyes right then were evidence of that. She brushed them away angrily, furious with herself for doing this. She'd wrecked everything...

And she still couldn't do the one thing that made sense. Regretting it.

Yes, she could tell herself she shouldn't have, that she had other options, that she'd be much more relaxed, much happier, leading another life altogether... but she couldn't even begin to regret what she'd done.

So many mistakes... and given the chance... she couldn't see herself changing any of it. That would be worse than anything... if she lost all those memories.

They were _not_ mistakes, she practically shouted at the rational voice in her head. They were her life, the one she'd _chosen_.

It still didn't change the fact that the line he'd drawn had been crossed, that they were heading towards dangerous waters and that she'd give anything to avoid... to avoid losing him forever.

Was that what it all came down to? All her fears and all that thinking about mistakes and avoiding this situation? Fear of losing him? Because that was sure what it felt like, especially considering the fact she felt not a trace of regret.

But the line... she'd just written that story in the hospital, had read parts out loud, and had subsequently created his dream... he knew this. She'd told him before she'd even realized the significance... had understood how he'd take it and how it would change things.

He'd been shocked, yes, after he'd explained the details, had apologized for scaring her and obviously truly meant it when he repeated again and again that he knew who she was and that he'd never forget. That he could never forget her. But did that really mean anything? He might not forget her, sure, but it didn't mean he'd ever feel about her the way she'd written him caring about Bren.

But he'd been especially caught up on the details of the beginning... on the start of her story. The part that she had truly hoped he hadn't picked up on and therefore hadn't dreamed about. And how the two of them had been married in what she'd typed. Her wistful imagination, no longer even pretending to be talking about Kathy and Andy, as she had originally intended when she first started typing, but knowing full well that it was the two of them… even using their names rather than the fictitious ones. It was an alternate universe, not just a wish for her fictional character and that character's FBI partner...

...A wish for herself and _her_ FBI partner.

And he _knew_ about it. He knew and he realized the significance. She did too.

It was over, and it was her fault. They couldn't be friends, and they never should have been. Again, with the mistake analyzing...

She sighed, and only then realized that her eyes were still shut. That they had been for who knew how long while she was lost in her thoughts. She didn't open them, but instead stayed in the world of darkness and solitude, half-wishing that she could fall asleep right here. The other half of her knew that it wasn't possible, though. Her brain was way too active for rest.

If he felt the same, if the dream had been as much of a... fantasy... for him, if it had been an enjoyable idea, then why had he reacted in such a way upon waking? Whey had he questioned who she was, been almost disappointed as they talked. Why had he frowned while she, feeling shocked, told him of the story she'd been writing and how it seemed to so closely match what he'd experienced. Why had he been so silent for the past few days, since they'd finished their first case back together? Why did he not want to go anywhere with her? Why was he avoiding her if he thought of her in the way they had in the dream, in the way she felt about him in real life?

She must have been wrong. Another mistake. Or, more accurately, the reason her mind was telling her that _everything_ was a mistake. This one thing, if it _was_ a mistake, that made the past four years one as well. That was the reasoning. It was clear.

She breathed out another long sigh, the pieces falling into place as she explained to herself why she was feeling this way and why her mind was working this way. To have reason and rationality was calming. She let it sink in, the understanding, and then was able to think far more clearly afterwards. The clarity was a relief.

But the confusion about him still remained. She could understand herself to the fullest, but she was still totally in the dark as to him. She was so sure, as the memories replayed for her once more, that what had always been in his eyes wasn't just respect and friendly care... it was something more.

And it had vanished over the past few days. He was always thinking, and he was jumpy and nervous all the time. His brow was always creased with worry when they weren't busy and she happened to glance his way.

He must be looking for a way out. He must be thinking of all the mistakes he made as well. He must be telling himself that he should never have let it get this far either... that he shouldn't have led her to believe something so ridiculous. The dream must have made him realize that he didn't see her the way she saw him, that he was accidentally misleading her. That he wanted to be friends, nothing more, and that since she'd crossed the line he wouldn't be able to work with her.

How could they function, after all, if he knew she felt so strongly because she'd let her emotions take control? He wouldn't be able to work with her, and he was too honest, too good of a person, to pretend to feel the same way when it would hurt her in the end. He thought that way... he thought ahead. He thought about how people would react to his words. He was a heart person.

And he'd be leaving soon, surely. Because there was no way she was going to get to keep working with him now that this had all come out.

It was over. It was her fault.

She did regret one thing, she realized. Telling him. Saying that she'd written the exact storyline. Letting him know that she had been the one who had sent those images of them together into his brain and caused them to link and form that realistic dream. Everything he'd seen and experienced during that coma, in that fantasy, was because of her. Not because of him or how he saw her. Simply because her words were something for his inactive brain to latch onto and to visualize. Nothing more.

A knock at her door. She wasn't even sure it was real, she'd been cut off from reality for so long while she dwelled in her memories. Then it came again, and her eyes slid open, bringing her back to the present in a flash. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, the tears having built up between her lids and leaving everything blurry. She'd left the lights on, and it was very bright, too.

Another knock, this time more insistent.

She got up and, with slow and cautious steps, approached the door.

"Hey, Bones!" his voice called, and she froze with a hand on the doorknob.

She considered not opening it... not wanting to hear what he had to say. Not wanting to endure the awkward conversation that was about to begin... when he would tell her, apologetically, that he didn't feel that way about her, but that he really cared as a _friend_. Just like he'd said earlier... he loved her in 'atta girl' kind of way. Hadn't that clearly been a sign to her, that he'd figured out she had feelings for him and wanted to affirm that they were strictly friends, and that he loved her, but not in the way that she'd thought? He probably had loved Bren, felt those emotions that she'd written while he was in the coma, and now he saw her for what she was, saw how different she was from what she'd written herself as. And he wasn't dazzled by it. Psychics were not reliable, after all.

She didn't think she could bear to hear those words, though, not again.

On the other side of the door, she could hear him sigh, and then, "Come on, Bones, open up. Please?"

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hesitating with her hand still on the knob.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I haven't been very responsive the past few days... but I brought Thai food... you wouldn't want it to get cold, would you? And I really need to talk to you. I need to explain some things."

She gripped the handle, about to turn it but still feeling incredible apprehension about doing so. His next words sent her over the brink she'd been teetering on, though.

"I'm not leaving. I'm going to stay here all night, got that Bones? I will wait until you come out tomorrow morning if I have to. But I need to see you."

She pulled the door open. There he was, Thai food in hand, staring back at her. At first his expression was of surprise, then it softened into one of relief. She wasn't even sure what emotion must be on her face. Fear, maybe?

"Hey, Bones. Can I... come in?"

She nodded and stepped out of the way, letting him go past her and shutting the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly as he set the food on the counter.

He turned back towards her, suddenly looking as nervous as she felt. "I wanted to see you. I haven't really... I haven't gotten much of a chance lately. I missed you, Bones."

She refused to let those words have the effect on her that she wanted to let them have. She wanted to just revel in them, in the way his voice had said them... she wanted to pretend that everything was okay and that those words were meant in the way she really wished they were.

But they weren't. He was just being nice.

_He doesn't love you,_ she reminded herself. It would be foolish and self-destructive to even consider otherwise.

His slight smile faltered and vanished as her face remained blank and she didn't respond.

"You okay?" he asked carefully, moving to stand right in front of her as he looked into her eyes with concern.

She looked away, probably answering that question for him.

He turned her head towards him with his index finger, frowning worriedly, and she gasped slightly at the touch, so familiar but now so painful. It didn't mean anything, and that's what tore her apart. Why did she ever have to let her emotions come out... why did she have to feel any of this at all? Couldn't she have just kept her ability to compartmentalize fully available? Why did it have to only work on memories and on dead bodies? Why couldn't it work on her feelings in relation to the man right in front of her? It really wasn't fair. But then... when had life _ever_ been fair to her?

"Listen... I'm sorry. I know you must be... so confused. But... I want to explain to you. I want you to understand..."

She listened silently, not responding or reacting in any way. He continued.

"Bones, when I woke up... I was... not really understanding what was going on." She already knew that. "But the one thing that I did understand... was that you were there, and that when I looked at you..." he hesitated, and she knew what was coming. She dreaded it, because she knew that it would mean something important... something that would lead to only more disappointment. "I looked at you, and I knew I wanted to be with you, more than... anything. It was the only thing I understood, really. And then... I wanted to tell you. I wanted us to be..." he trailed off, stopping short as he read her expression. Despite her attempts, her face had given her away.

Or, more specifically, the tears rolling down her face had.

So, he did want Bren. He did love the woman that she'd written herself as. Not her. Never her. She wanted to get away, to just escape from this whole situation, but there was really no where to go.

"Bones, hey, shh... I'm sorry, shh..."

He reached for her, but she pulled back. It wasn't her that he wanted to comfort. It was someone that didn't exist, someone that she could never be. A better version of herself. It was almost worse than her original thought that he was being nice solely out of feeling he had to, that he owed her something and didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her he didn't actual love her.

He immediately pulled his hand back as she recoiled, and the concern in his eyes was enough that she felt another sob rise in her throat. She choked it back, refusing to let it out. Did he even see her anymore? Or did he just see someone that looked like her?

"Bones..." his body language suggested he wanted to comfort her, that he wanted to hug her. She stepped further away.

"I'm not her!" she shouted at him. "I'm not Bren, Booth! I don't know why you even call me Bones anymore!"

His eyes widened in shock at her outburst. She couldn't seem to stop, as the words continued to spurt out with quicker and quicker pacing.

"You think you love me, but you don't! You can't! If I'd never written that stupid book you wouldn't even feel any different at all... you'd have just woken up and we'd be back to solving murders and working together like we always have, like nothing had changed! But instead you're stuck thinking things that don't make sense, and I'm just here unable to do anything about it, and now we don't even have what we had before because I _destroyed_ it!"

Silence. Stunned on his part... choked on hers. Her eyes were blazing, and she was breathing heavily.

"I don't love Bren," he finally murmured. "I love you, Bones. And I always have, even before the coma and the dream... and everything that's happened since then. Yeah, things are confusing, and so much doesn't make sense... but I know this, more than I know anything, that I love you."

Her breathing stopped for a long moment, and the only sound she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears, the thudding of her heart, getting more and more frantic.

It was wrong. He was confused... he didn't know what he was saying... he didn't really mean it... there was no way it could be right, that he could truly feel the way he'd just claimed he did. The dream... it had changed him, and his view of her. It wasn't... it couldn't be...

She struggled desperately to just _understand_ what was going on, to comprehend the actual truth of this situation... because what she was coming up with right now was not working.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No... you- you don't. There's no... it doesn't..."

"I'm sorry," he said, stepping closer, "I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through... but I can't be without you, and... I think the dream made me realize it even more... because we... we were happy in the dream, we were going to be a family... and I wanted that. In the real world, with the real you. Bren... she wasn't you, Bones, she wasn't the person you are, with all the genius and the inability to understand pop-culture..." he smiled softly. "I would have told you sooner... I really would have... like the other night? I was so close... but I didn't know what would happen, how things would change, and I was more afraid of losing you than anything else.

"I wasn't avoiding you because I wanted to, Bones... never because I wanted to. But I couldn't tell you the truth because I was so afraid that maybe I was... wrong. Sweets..." he grimaced, "He told me that I didn't love you before the operation, that it was created by the dream... and I guess you believed that idea too... and I did a little, too, at first. But now I know it was wrong. Because I can remember paying attention to little details about you, to the little moments between us where neither of us had to say anything... to how we could work together even through all our differences... how I knew what you're favorite things were, and how I'd just spend so much time thinking more about you than about anyone else... and I just knew that Sweets was wrong. The brain scans, they might show where chemicals were being released because of emotions like love... but that doesn't mean that before I didn't love you... it just means that I had it under control, that I avoided it because I wanted to keep you, and I was so scared that I might drive you away by admitting how I felt. And... after you left the lab tonight... I thought about it and I realized that now I've lost control, that I think about you _constantly..._ and I let myself see what we could be like and what I wanted for us... rather than avoiding it to keep myself safe..."

She just stared at him as the words tumbled out of his mouth. And she heard them, but she couldn't even begin to fully process them. What he said was making sense, though, was slowly seeping in to invade her original thought process.

"I just love you," he whispered, his voice almost choked with emotion. "And I don't know how else to explain it to you, to show you how I feel... and I don't even know if you feel the same way, or if I've been chasing something all this time that I couldn't even have..."

She held up a hand, and he stopped.

"You love me?" she whispered.

"Of course," he answered immediately, his eyes suddenly lighting with a faint flicker of hope. She could see him watching her closely, see him waiting for a response.

She slowly shook her head, and saw him immediately deflate. "I don't..." she murmured, "I don't even know what to... to say, to do..." How could she even begin to convey everything to him?

"You don't have to do anything, Bones. If you want me here, I'll stay. If you don't... I'll still be around. I'm not going to leave you, either way."

She felt the tears starting up again. Was it even possible, that someone could feel this way about _her?_ That they would want her no matter what, that they would care about her despite anything that might happen?

Without even knowing how it had happened, she found herself in Booth's arms, pressing herself warmly up against him and just letting all else disappear except for this. Except for that single fact, which she could see the truth of in his eyes.

He loved her.

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**Yes, a lot of thinking on Brennan's part. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I will hopefully update sooner than I did for this one. Feedback would be absolutely loved. **:)


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, here it is, the last chapter :) Yeah, I wasn't expecting it to be the end either, but it sorta... happened. I hope you all enjoyed it!!  
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"You don't have to do anything, Bones. If you want me here, I'll stay. If you don't… I'll still be around. I'm not going to leave you, either way."

He waited, watched her face, just praying for a positive reaction. Hoping beyond hoping that he hadn't gone too far, that he hadn't terrified her and lost her entirely. And then she started to cry harder than she had before. He watched, feeling the panic build up as the tears rolled down her cheeks. God, was it even possible for him to ruin things further? Had he really just hurt her even more than he had before, damaged her already fragile emotional state which was his fault in the first place?

And then he saw something in her eyes, and read a different emotion in the way she tilted her head slightly to the side, the way she bit her lip slightly, probably without even realizing she was doing anything of the sort.

Through all his fear and guilt, he suddenly found himself reading hope in her face… and he could hardly believe he could be correct about it. He must be wishing too much, because how could she possibly react like this?

And then suddenly she was just there, pressed tight against him, her face against his shoulder as she shook slightly from the sobs which were now getting more rapid and emotion-filled.

"Hey, hey… shh, I've got you, Bones. Hush, it's all okay…" Instinctively, his arms closed around her, sheltering her within their embrace as he cradled her head better into the crook of his neck, murmuring soft comfort into her ear. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice choked, once her crying had subsided and her breathing returned mostly to normal.

"For what?" she whispered, head tilting back as she stared at him with shining eyes. Fear clouded her expression rapidly, and he immediately moved onward to avoid worrying her further.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, if I hurt you. I was just… everything was confusing, Bones… and I wanted to do what was best for you because… you're the only thing that matters to me, now."

A soft laugh from her, half-sobbed, like she was still unable to believe the possibility of that fact. Her eyes glowed from behind the curtain of moisture, the droplets caught in her eyelashes reflecting the lighting and sparkling. He wanted to brush them away, hold them on his fingertips and away from her, and make her happier than she'd ever been. Because she deserved that… because she was his everything. Because he could never live without her. Her happiness was his. Her pain his. All of who she was merged with all of what he was, and he couldn't really make a distinction between them anymore. He wanted to be with her always, and he could only hope that she would want the same. Pray that she would be his and he could be hers. Forever. Because any less would simply not be enough.

"I need to know how you're handling that, Bones. Because I can… we can go at any pace you want… I don't want to… overwhelm you, or scare you..."

A silence between them as she stared at him, her eyes hardening with resolve and seriousness. "Booth, what I need to know is that you… that you don't just…" a deep breath, and then a mumbled continuation that he could barely understand. He caught the words 'atta girl,' though, and immediately understood.

"Hey, no. No, Bones, okay? I don't… I was just worried, and I didn't really think about what I was doing, and if I had lost you..." he shook his head and looked away, unable to even imagine such a thing. "I love you. Completely and truly."

She just nodded. A simple _nod_. He almost wanted to laugh at the whole situation. That was it, all his worry about losing her and her not accepting this? She just… nodded? As if it was all perfectly normal and okay? As if this did not faze her immensely? Instead he wrapped his arms tightly around her again and squeezed, feeling her warmth and her small but sturdy frame press against him.

"I was..." she started hesitantly as she started to slowly pull back a bit, "I was worried too. When you… over the past few days..." she sighed and shook her head, "I thought I was… wrong, about everything. And... I didn't want to lose you, or lose what we had... but I wanted..." another shake of her head. She looked away.

"You wanted what?" he asked gently.

"I wanted it to be true," she whispered, "The... psychic. She told me that..." she took an unsteady breath, "That you... saw me, for who I was, and that you... were _dazzled_ by that. Me."

Her eyes met his nervously and flicked away, her lip creasing under the pressure from her teeth once more.

He wasn't sure what to say to that, but he only hesitated a short moment before he carefully placed a hand behind her head and brought his lips to hers softly. He waited for her to pull away, the way he would have expected the Bones he'd always known to do. But no... she seemed to melt under his touch, and instead of pulling back she pressed closer, her lips moving against his and her hands wrapping around behind his head.

She was the first one to break the contact though, and they stared at each other, their noses almost touching, breathing hard. And then a wide grin broke out across his face, and he watched her mirror the expression. His forehead tilted forward to meet hers, and gentle turquoise eyes met melted chocolate.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked her softly. "I need to know that you're positive, and that you actually think this will work out. Because I'm in for the long-haul, no matter what happens."

She bit her lip again, and he suddenly worried that she might start to rationalize, and in doing so might very well change her mind about what she was doing. He watched as she shook her head, and felt his stomach drop sickeningly as his mind started to race through possible scenarios without his ever deciding to do so.

"I'm willing to try," she whispered, making his eyebrows shoot up with surprise.

"Really?" he whispered, hope raising the pitch of his voice slightly.

She laughed softly, the sound echoing to his ears and making warm pleasure spread through him, calm his fearful heart. "How many times are you going to ask that?" she questioned, tilting her head slightly to the side without breaking the contact between their skin.

"As many times as it takes until it sinks in, Bones. Do you have any idea how long I've been thinking about this?"

"From your brain scans, I would say roughly six weeks."

He chuckled. That was his Bones, always logical. And she was right, truthfully, because recently _had_ been when he'd started picturing how things could be, whereas prior to his surgery he hadn't actually let himself imagine that sort of thing because he hadn't dared to.

It felt so good now, knowing that he was right in the fact that he loved her... and having her right here, in his arms, to prove that it all was quite possible.

"I think I've been waiting longer," she whispered.

He waited for her to continue, a slight frown playing across his face as he tried to understand how that could be possible. He couldn't remember a single moment where she'd made it obvious... but then again, he was biased because a lot of the moments that outsiders would continue to be romantic or sweet he had just begun to consider normal Bones behavior; often times he'd even just assumed she didn't even realize what double meaning her words could have. Maybe he'd been wrong about all of that. Anything was possible... after all, it was Bones.

"I never thought someone could love me," she whispered, so softly that he wasn't even sure he'd heard her correctly. "And... everything just proved it to me, always. I just... I ended up trying to control my relationships, because I was afraid that they'd disappoint me. If I was the one that cut it off... it felt less like rejection." He squeezed her gently, smiling reassuringly as she went on, her eyes staring deeply into his with more emotion than he'd thought those blue depths were capable of. It was beautiful and wonderful, and he loved her all the more for how much heart she could show when she wanted to. "And then, working with you... I just started to realize that maybe it was possible for people to care, because... I could tell that you did. And I didn't want to believe that you could... love me, because if you didn't... And at the same time I _wanted_ you to, because..." she trailed off, frowning, and shook her head, probably unable to come up with an explanation for why.

"Everyone wants to be loved," he whispered softly to her, and to emphasize the point he pulled away from her just enough so that he could tilt his head up and kiss her softly on the forehead.

She smiled at him, and he felt himself melt even further, if that was even possible.

"We're going to work out," he promised her. "Everything is going to work out."

"You can't possibly know that," she contradicted, but the smile that played on her lips suggested she was teasing him in the way that only she could. "Besides, we're still us, and we're still going to solve murders and bicker and stay up late with Thai food..."

"Of course," he promised. "But now... things are going to change."

"I think..." she pondered for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, "I think I'm fine with that. Change... is a necessary part of life, and this time, for once... I think I might actually like it."

He punched her lightly on the shoulder, grinning as he stepped away and then scooped up her jacket to offer it to her.

"Where are we going?"

"Wong Fu's," he said simply, helping her into the coat and then placing an arm around her as he led the way to the door.

"I thought you brought food with you?" she asked, gesturing towards the untouched takeout sitting on her counter.

"Nah, this deserves a night out." He easily popped the fridge open and slid the containers in. "Problem solved," he said, grinning widely as he rejoined her by the door.

"I'm driving," she said quickly, and the door swung shut behind them, leaving the pair to argue over the keys as they made their way down the stairs to his SUV, all the while a light and airy feeling overwhelming both of their hearts as they soared with the hopes, the dreams, that might very well be available now.

There'd be difficulties, sure, what else could they expect when the worked with the FBI? But with both of them wanting the same things, and having the other right by their side...

Well, maybe psychics get it right sometimes.

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**Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed; I truly appreciated it!!!**

**Hope you all enjoyed this story, I really enjoyed working on it :)  
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